Caught Beneath a Landslide
by SomedayYouWillFindMe
Summary: What would have happened if Finn hadn't fallen asleep after the sexy party (in episode 4)? Any slack you could cut me would be awesome because 1. I'm a 23-year-old American and thus, still learning the lingo of this location and time period and 2. This is the first fic I've ever written. Having said that, any and all constructive criticism is welcome. I hope you enjoy reading!
1. Chapter 1

"We alrigh'?" asked Finn.

"Yeah, we're alrigh'," Rae said, relieved they'd finally established _that_. The drama with Danny and Finn that night had been fucking exhausting; she was glad to be settling down for the night, free from anxiety. Well, nearly free.

Turning slightly, Rae glanced over to the empty expanse on her wall, where she'd ripped down the postcards in fury that afternoon. Though she'd spent the night attempting to distract her thoughts with the party and her friends (sitting here with Finn "Sex God" Nelson IN HER BED was certainly doing the trick), the truth about her dad's (no, mum's) letters had still been gnawing away quietly in the back of her mind. In some ways, she never wanted to see her mum's face again. In some ways, she couldn't wait for her to get back so she could destroy it. This secret was one thing that Rae refused to keep stored in her backpack full of bullshit; just carrying the fucking thing around was becoming overwhelming and she'd found herself needing to count to ten more than once that night. She needed to tell someone—the pressure felt like it was gonna suffocate her.

"What're ya thinkin' 'bout?" Finn asked, sensing the inner conflict from the pained expression on her face. Finn could always tell when something was bugging Rae; she'd get this strained, confused gaze in her eyes, like she couldn't decide where to look. His senses always seemed on edge when he was near her. From that day when she'd walked in the pub with Chloe, Finn had felt a buzz (unrelated to the snakebite he'd just downed), almost electric like, whenever he was in the same room as her. Even when he couldn't see her, he could just _feel_ her there. It was like they shared some kind of weird radio signal no one else knew about; the closer he got to her, the stronger and clearer it was. He was almost positive she could feel it too. And, when they touched...fuckin' 'ell, it was like the electricity between them just exploded into a million tiny pieces—it tingled his entire body and made his skin all goosepimply. _Jesus, he was turning into a soft sod. _Sure, he'd been with other girls and he'd felt his body react to them—it's just that it usually was focused all in one anatomical area...

He can remember the first time they'd touched, the first time he'd really felt it. They were in Chloe's sauna during the party, talking about fuck knows what (his mind was elsewhere, as per usual). He felt himself spending way too much time glancing at Rae's thighs. He couldn't stop himself—it was like they begged to be looked at. Finn didn't know what it was that drew him to them—they didn't scare him or make him nervous. There was just this overwhelming urge in his fingers to touch them, to...caress them? _Bollocks, he was starting to weird himself out now_. But he felt like, if he could just touch them, he could...heal them, could get rid of that painful memory he'd seen plastered on Rae's face as she'd sat, frozen, on the slide that day. Luckily, before he'd even moved a finger, everyone had jumped up quickly, headed for the pool. He'd been awoken from his thoughts when, as she made to stand, Rae's leg had brushed his. It was only a graze, but enough to send an unexpected shock through his body—it was...unsettling. This powerful (but pleasant) jolt of energy, was something he'd only ever experienced after hearing a really stirring lyric. What was this girl doing to him?

"I'm thinkin' 'bout me mum," she responded quietly, unsure about whether or not she wanted to go on, to begin unloading the backpack of bullshit—it might feel…_too _good and she might not be able to stop once she started. Just then, though, she felt his soft, curious gaze on her face, and there was no helping it. When he'd protected her from those twats outside the chippy, he'd made her feel...safer, somehow, like she could trust him with nearly anything she was thinking (well, other than the ever-increasing horn-filled fantasies in which he starred), which was a right lot more than she could say for her mum, Chloe, or even Kester, at that point.

"I found out today she's been lying to me about me dad. For years."

"What'd she do?" Finn asked, concerned.

"Since I was a kid, after my annoyin' sod of a mum ran 'im outta the 'ouse, I'd get postcards in the mail from 'im—just two or three a year." Rae relaxed a bit. This was going alright. "At firs', it were just the Outer Hebrides, but then I'd get some from places like Glasgow, or Aberdeen...I use ta imagine 'e was a traveler."

She paused, remembering when she got the first few. Rae had felt like, in a way, no matter how few words were scribbled on the small card, that she was holding a piece of him. Like knowing he'd written them only a few days before and that he'd touched the same surface she was holding brought him closer to her. Sometimes, when her mom wasn't looking, she'd even sniff the card, searching, reaching for any possible scent of him—did he wear cologne? were his hands sweating while he wrote because he was excited or nervous? It was bollocks, she knew—but once, she swore she smelled hints of peppermint pipe tobacco. Maybe that's what the shop smelled like, the one where he'd bought the card. She liked to imagine him taking his time finding one with the most beautiful landscape and the most room on the back, to write as much as he could. Really, though—there wasn't a lot of room—he'd have had to choose only the best words for her. It was all a bit mad, she knew, but how else was she supposed to get to know him?

Maybe she wanted to feel special, she realized now, like she was worth his time and energy, that, even though he must be busy traversing the North, he was always thinking about her. At the beginning, after she'd gotten a card from him, she'd even written him back. Once, she'd spent working hours (in secret, of course—her mum would only ruin it) making a birthday card for him (when her dad was born—one of the only things her sodding excuse for a mother had told her about him), giving more effort than she'd ever given for any writing assignment at school. Being unaware of how mail actually worked, though, Rae dropped it off in a post box on her walk to school—she'd simply addressed it to "Dad," without even thinking where it was going or how it would get there. _Bollocks, she really was a daft child_.

After a while, she'd given up, upset that he didn't respond or thank her for the birthday card. Finally, she'd given in and asked her mum why he wasn't getting them (she just knew he'd have written back if he had). She'd said "well, we don't have his address, now do we, Rachel?" tensely. This had pissed her off to no end—her mum never wanted to talk about him, and now she wouldn't even proper answer a simple bloody question. Her dad was too scared to "step on her mum's toes," so she had clearly done something horrible. "Well, maybe if you didn't make 'im leave, I wouldn't _have_ to write to 'im!" and stormed upstairs to her room.

"Was he?"

"Wha'?" Rae asked. _Well, shit. _she'd been sitting there like a twat, reminiscing away, whilst he laid there waiting for her to get to the point.

"Was he a traveler?"

"Oh—no, that's wha' I found out. Me mum was the one writing to me all that time. I found the spare cards in a box under 'er bed after I recognized her handwritin'." Okay, it wasn't that _exactly _that had made her begin the search, but she didn't want to embarrass herself all over again by telling him it was because she was a bloody idiot who didn't understand the most basic details of letter sending.

"Oh." Finn paused. "What 'id ya do?"

" 'ad this party to piss her off. It was the one rule she had when she left me 'ere alone—'_No parties_'," she mocked her mum, rolling her eyes.

Finn laughed lightly. He loved this side of Rae—one he'd been missing ever since he hugged her that day in the park, which , for some reason, made her treat him like a knobhead until now. She could be so caring, like earlier with his Nan, but knew just how to cheer him up by being her cheeky self. It seemed like Rae was always the one making everyone laugh; she could sense when someone was upset, and made an effort to cheer them up. It was so much of what held them together that he wondered how they'd gotten along before she became part of the gang. After the initial spark, this was one thing that really attracted him to her. 'Course, she could also be a complete knobhead, stubborn as hell. He supposed it must be some kind of defense mechanism. She wasn't too pleased about her situation at home, and it seemed to him to be difficult.

"Well, that was brave of ya." Finn paused before realizing Rae was staring at him with confusion. "I think...I mean, I dunno…what I woulda done if me mum or dad had...ya know..." _Bollocks, why did he always sound like such a twat_? He was supposed to be giving her a compliment, and here he was, stammering away like a bloody idiot. But, it was true—would he even have been able to make it through the past couple of months without them, whilst his Nan was in the hospital? Much as he hated to admit it, his parents, especially his dad, were a huge support to him during that time, and even though Chop—the poor fucker—had tried to be a good mate, he just wasn't all too graceful about it.

"Yeah, well..." Rae blushed, not knowing quite what to say, "I'm still proper pissed abou' it."

And she was…wasn't she? Rae would never admit it to anyone, but finding those postcards underneath her mum's bed had fucking hurt. It meant that she had to face the fact that she had actually trusted her mother all that time. If she couldn't trust **her**—the woman who was supposed to care most about her, underneath it all—could she really tell anyone anything?

Waves of panic had hit her all at once as she'd walked downstairs that afternoon. She couldn't process this—it was all just too… heavy. She just needed to focus, to keep her head above water, before she had another meltdown. _Relax_, she told herself, pausing on the last step. _Just count to ten. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. _Slowly, the tightness in her chest lessened. The panic subsided, for then, but she felt the anger inside of her build stronger as she hurried to the kitchen. Adults will tell you to be honest, not to lie to anyone, but they're the biggest bullshitters of them all. Rae could forgive her mum for lying to everyone about "France." Bollocks, she could even forgive her for bringing a strange Tunisian into their house while she was gone. But this was her DAD.

The words—the ones on the back of each card that Rae had memorized—had instantly lost their meaning as she dropped them into the bin. She recognized each one as she let them go; the words were still there, but all the happiness attached to them shattered into pieces, until the anger blurred her memory of them. She loathed her mum at that moment, finding out that she had lied to her all that time, that she'd let her to act like a fool for TEN YEARS, that she'd given her false hope—what if she never meets her dad? did he even WANT to contact her?—but also because what, did her mum think she needed coddling and couldn't see past the bullshit? She wasn't five years old anymore, and it wasn't enough anymore—Rae wanted the truth.

"I mean, why does she 'ave to treat me like a child? I'm sixteen years old, for fuck's sake!"

Finn could understand Rae's anger—he'd felt it himself the past couple of months. With his Nan being ill, his parents had been stepping on eggshells around him, treating him like he was a child, like he couldn't handle the reality of it all. Finn had seen her in the hospital bed toward the end, after she'd had one of her "episodes"—a bad one, when she didn't recognize even him. But, he'd seen what the dementia had done to her; she hadn't been herself for a long time, so he knew it wasn't an attack on him, not really. He could handle her sickness, or understand it at least, but his mum and dad sure as hell didn't think so. They'd both tried to convince him not to visit her alone (like that was gonna fucking happen) and, when they insisted on going with him, his mum would pull him out of her room if they sensed anything was wrong.

He'd really been angry up until tonight. After getting the news, though, he supposed that they just didn't want him to remember her like that. His dad had said "I'm sorry, son, she's gone," but Finn had known for a while now that she had been gone; in a way, it had given him a chance to grieve her loss slowly over the past couple of months. The tears he'd cried earlier were partly out of sadness, but mostly out of relief that she wasn't suffering any more; the sobs that had taken over his body and reverberated into the hug with Rae were mostly waves of tension, anxiety, and pain being released, he realized now. He could finally let it all go—the fear of the unknown, the anxiety of constant chaos, and even the anger towards his parents. They weren't really ready for him to be grown up, to be okay with his Nan's sickness. They'd needed to feel like parents, to have something stable, to know they were doing **something** right in it all.

Returning to the present, Finn realized that Rae was still banging on about it.

"…She thinks I shouldn't be going out, even though she does every bloody night. If I can tolerate her having sex at top volume at four in the morning with some wanker she met like two days ago, I think I can handle pretty much anything," Rae said, anger and disgust flushing through her.

"Maybe she's just worried about ya," Finn suggested, trying to calm her down.

"She's ALWAYS saying she's worried about me. All she does is tell me what I can't do and what I shouldn't do, ever since I got back from the ho—" _Shit. _"—from France." Finn stared at her in confusion. _Fuck_. She had to tell him _something_. May as well keep the story the same, in case Chloe blabbed to him (she totally would). The last thing she needed to deal with right now was having the gang talk about her lies behind her back. "I was in an accident while I was there visiting my uncle, and she was all scared because she wasn't there to take me to the hospital and boss me around after." _That was. Fucking. Close_. Rae had started losing her grip. The bullshit was just crawling out of her backpack now, and she needed to reign some of it back in before it drowned her. She felt her chest tighten anxiously.

"An accident?" he asked, worried.

"Yeah, but I'm alrigh'. My uncle got the wors' of it."

The silence hung there for a few seconds, Finn obviously searching for what to say to this revelation.

_Oh shit. Please don't ask me anything else. PLEASE. _Rae didn't know if she could handle shoveling more bullshit into the backpack of lies.

"Rae?" he asked timidly, voice cracking.

"Yeah?" she answered, nervously.

"Is that where the…scars. The ones on your legs…?" The question hung in the air, unfinished, but Rae knew what he must be thinking.

"Yeah. It is." She paused, wondering if she should continue, before sensing that Finn wanted to continue the inquisition. "They really look worse than they feel, though. I'm alright…They're healing now." She answered, hugely relieved when she realized that he wasn't pressing further with the questions, but also feeling a sharp twinge of guilt deep in her stomach. She wasn't exactly sure why yet, but she was discovering that lying to Finn wasn't as easy as lying to Chloe or her mum.

He wasn't entirely sure he believed Rae's story—what kind of accident would leave those kinds of scars? He'd only seen them once, at Chloe's pool party, but the image was painted raw in his memory. They looked straight and deep, almost like they were made…deliberately. But, he'd sensed her discomfort as soon as he'd mentioned it—Rae's body had tensed up and he heard her breath stagger, like a painful memory had taken her by surprise. He had flashbacks to the scene in Chloe's pool, and the strong ache he had to comfort her, discouraging him from prodding any more.

"Good. I'm glad ya okay."

"Thanks, Finn."

They laid there, sides touching, mere centimeters of fabric separating skin from skin, but Finn felt Rae slipping away from him. He'd just broken down the huge wall that had been holding back the tension between them, but she was grabbing for more bricks. He couldn't let that happen; they'd come so far that night, from her plainly declaring that she didn't want to be his friend in the closet, to holding each other tightly, his tears and—bullocks, had he really cried that hard?—his _snot_ all over the shoulder of her shirt. He suddenly felt warm, embarrassed about sharing not only his bodily fluids, but his anxiety and pain with her.

He'd never been so vulnerable, not even with his parents or his Nan, and didn't know if he could ever share that side of himself with anyone else. And she'd comforted him, hugged him. Now she'd opened up to him (even if it was considerably...drier, he thought, cringing again because he'd sobbed so hard that she'd had to change her shirt afterwards), and he needed to return it. No, he _wanted_ to return it. Carefully pulling his left hand up out of the duvet cover, he put it slowly and gently on Rae's, hoping, despite the initial twitch of surprise he felt from her, that his touch gave her even one-tenth the comfort he'd felt from her earlier that night.

"Good. I'm glad ya okay."

"Thanks, Finn."

It seemed, for now at least, she could relax-Finn took her answer as sufficient. Bollocks, maybe she had given him twattish answers and he was afraid to ask more? Did he think she was a freak? Were her scars too much for him? The room felt as if it was shrinking...the air was starting to thicken. She couldn't keep lying to Finn; he could read it in her body language and expressions. And, besides, he'd been so open with her that night—she felt guilty not reciprocating by being honest with him.

_Fuck_, she needed to get out of there, to escape, before she had to make up more bullshit lies. She was about to get up—she needed to go to the bathroom to organize her thoughts, before the truth slipped out—when she felt a spark in her arm, skin touching hers. It was a hand. FINN'S hand. JESUSMARYANDJOSEPH. He. Was. Touching—nay, HOLDING—her hand. Rae laid there stiffly for a minute, using her other hand to pinch herself in the leg, doubting very much that this was really happening. "Ow!" she muttered.

"Y'alright?" Finn asked, clearly worried he'd hurt her somehow.

She nodded, too afraid to say anything just yet. But he'd pulled his hand away quickly when he heard her exclamation. She had to say (or do) _something_.

"Yeah. Perfect," she said, turning away, embarrassed, but smiling bashfully, relaxing her body once again and letting her fingers smoothly entwine with his when he returned his hand between the covers and found them.


	2. Chapter 2

If someone had told her this morning that the day was going to end this perfectly, Rae would have thought they were madder than she was. The amount of strength it was taking her to act normally was insane. Since Finn grabbed her hand, Rae had been lying there in silence; she was afraid that opening her mouth the slightest bit would result in her actually bursting out in delightful shrieks. She couldn't help it; her body felt like it was on fire. But in a good way. In SUCH a good way. The exhilaration washed away the fear from her mind and replaced it with an endless supply of Finn horn. Rae looked him up and down, licking her lips and being careful to only move her eyes in surveying his body. _Jesus, he's fucking fit._ It was really starting to create a problem in the breathing department. Images of the fantasies she'd had of him right in this very bed kept crossing her mind—Finn as Adonis, wielding a thick metal sword, dressed in full-on centurion garb as Marcus Antonius, caressing her everywhere, even as Mr. Darcy jumping into the pond (She had a soft spot for Colin Firth. Especially a shirtless Colin Firth.). It took all she had to suppress the urge to rip the clothes right off his delicious body.

It was for this reason precisely that she had waited for Finn to fall asleep (of course, it was also easier knowing that she wouldn't have to worry about him hearing her snoring or smelling her breath—she'd brushed her teeth about five times before they 'd laid down, but you never know). She was having a proper internal freak out—her body was begging her to do more than hold his hand, but she didn't know if she could. Apart from Archie touching her boob (which didn't really count in this case because, fucking hell, that was awkward even when she thought he was straight) she's never really been physical with a man before (putting Johnnies on bananas in sex ed class apparently doesn't count as "experience"). Even if she did have the bollocks to make a move, Rae was pretty sure the fifteen people sleeping in her room would notice her shagging his lights out. She had figured Finn wasn't going to make a move either, but the longer she lay there, the more Rae found that she was surprisingly okay with just holding hands. The action itself was making her self-conscious. There's this really strong electricity between them when they were close together that gives her goosepimples all over her body…but it also makes her more aware of her imperfections. Really, she's not even sure if she could _handle_ him holding or touching more than her hand, much less moving the duvet cover from between them and ravishing him right there (contrary to what Danny had made everyone believe).

Oh, Danny. The bullshit story about him and Rae having gone to a hotel for a holiday of sex was the last straw. He knew as much about the subject as she did (probably even less)—why had she listened to him about the "Friend Zone"? _Stupid Rae. I mean, think about it—the boy wears two hats and bangs on all day about ducks_. Looking back, she hadn't actually had confidence in Danny's theory, but she'd still done what he said; it was probably because it was easier to treat Finn mean to keep him keen than it was to admit her feelings. Rae couldn't blame Danny too harshly—he _was_ her friend, after all, and seemed genuinely interested in helping her. She sensed that he had other motives for letting everyone know about his sexual experiences (she'd seen him chatting up that girl earlier on). Banging on about sleeping with Raewas doing him no favors, though; he might as well have flat out told everyone he lived in a mental hospital. She still couldn't shake the worry she'd first had upon seeing him at her party; he shouldn't be in such a chaotic place—it'd be too much for his senses to handle and Rae knew it probably wouldn't end well—but she couldn't just take him back to the hospital in the middle of the night without getting him in trouble, and she didn't want that either; she knew how it was to want to be normal, to have friends, to hang out with cool people—people outside of the mental hospital, that is—to feel like you _belong _somewhere and _to_ something, and aren't just a pointless blob or inconvenience to other people. She'd gotten a taste of that, so why shouldn't Danny?

Of course, thinking about Danny made Rae long for Tix to be there as well. She knew how badly Tix just wanted to get out, to be able to talk about boys, to feel something, to not have to worry about how many calories were in her beer. But, seeing how she'd reacted to Danny (someone she knew and even liked) just touching her hand, Rae knew the party atmosphere would only be dangerous, not just for Tixy, but for everyone there. People were so tightly packed together in her house (fucking Chop, the bell-end) that there was no way Tix could manage the night without being at least grazed against. Oh, but Rae wanted so badly to share everything that was happening with Tix; she couldn't wait to go visit her the next day and tell her absolutely everything, even though she never wanted this night with Finn to end. Her stomach was still squeamish just thinking about it, but Rae could feel everything from the day exhausting her mind, and soon let sleep take over her body.

Complete contentment. Just what Finn felt as he lay there. Content to finally be holding her—for real, not sobbing into her shoulder or squeezing the bollocks out of her shirtless, as she awkwardly stands there, wondering what the hell he's doing—and glad that she was holding him too. He could be there for her when it seemed her mom was unreliable. _She doesn't hate my guts, then, at least,_ Finn thought. Rae seemed to be warming up to him (and warming him up—_Jesus, she is beautiful_), if nothing else, and there was no bigger relief to Finn. Even so, a small part of him was self-conscious about his own recent behavior; that nagging voice just couldn't get past the way she'd been treating him and how easily the frustration had built up in him that night. First with that daft bugger Danny—who did he think he was (seemed a bit off-color to Finn, personally, but maybe it was just his own jealousy that painted the wanker that way), traipsing into a party Rae's new friends were throwing, bragging about his and Rae's sex life? His story sounded like bollocks, but really—how well did Finn even know Rae? After all, he'd just met the girl a month ago. Then, he'd refused to believe anything happened when she and Archie went on a date—_that turned out well for ya, didn't it, buddy?_ the voice antagonized him. Still, Finn had been territorial over her, something he knew was wrong; had she known the thoughts racing through his head as Danny sat there, spewing bullshit, Rae would have beat his arse in a second. He could hear her now:_"Finn, I can bloody well handle myself, thank you very much!"_

Yet, the day Big G showed up outside the chippy, Finn had seen a crack open in the tough armor she usually wore, all of the fight drained from her body. To that point, Rae had been able to more than stand her ground in any argument, especially when it was about music; in fact, Finn had never met someone (not to mention, a girl) who was so stubborn and confident, qualities that, truth be told, Finn found irritatingly sexy. This wasn't just an argument, though. Something wasn't right. He'd felt her creep past him and out the door. It happened when he was getting up to follow her: he saw her through the glass window of the chippy, stopped in mid-stride, eyes clenched tightly, pain radiating through her entire body. He couldn't stop it. Where it came from, Finn wasn't certain. He only knew that he'd seen red that day, a red that blurred his mind and numbed all of his senses but one—fury—and his response was automatic.

Finn's mind had remained fuzzy as he watched the twats run away, but sobered when he turned and saw the expression on Rae's face. It sliced through him like a blade. Of course, watching him must have surprised her; she didn't know he was capable of that kind of violence. Honestly, Finn didn't know of it himself—he'd never been so aggressive with someone in his life and it kinda shook him up a bit. This wasn't the way he wanted her to think of him, like he couldn't control himself. _Oh, fuck._ A million questions had run through his mind then, as he hesitated. _What just fucking happened? Does she think I'm gonna hurt her? What should I do?_ Figuring it would probably not be best to touch or be near her if she was terrified of him, he'd made sure she was okay to walk home, and turned in the opposite direction, shaking from confusion and fear himself.

Her unease was just as clear to him tonight in the closet, when all he'd done was said her name. Shit, she was probably scared then, too, standing in a closet with someone who'd just beat a lad to a pulp a few days before, unable to easily escape. That was probably the real reason she'd been mugging him off lately and treating him like a complete knobhead—she hadn't wanted to be around him, let alone having him give her hugs or opening up to him about who the Danny kid was._God, Finn. Ya really fucked it up, attacking her with questions like that._ It's no wonder she'd barely said anything while they were in there_._ It was a humbling blow to his ego, realizing that he'd probably actually been the one to blame for the past week._ Well… at least she'd changed her mind about the whole "Maybe I don't wanna be your friend" deal_, Finn told himself. He still felt uneasy, though. Did she really want to hold his hand earlier, or did she just feel like she had to, because she was scared that his grief might turn into anger? After all of the feelings he'd gained for Rae, if she really didn't want to even be mates…it might just break him. _Well, she's still holding your hand now, and she hasn't buggered off yet. _If there was even the slightest chance that she was interested, Finn was going to hold onto it like hell because the long list of things he liked about her was only growing more quickly.

The room was still dark when Rae woke up the first time. Something had been tickling her nose, but she couldn't find the culprit—probably just a fucking fly, the bastard. It wasn't morning yet, and she was still a big groggy from having been woken up suddenly, but she swore she could hear Chop still stirring, occasionally turning over in his crinkling sleeping bag. Rae knew it wasn't just a coincidence that he'd chosen to sleep in the same room as Izzy, near to her curled body as possible (without causing suspicion). _Poor Chop. _Rae'd seen that look on his face after Izzy had kissed him—like he just realized he had bullocks for the first time and didn't know what to do with them. The two had tried to deny their attraction so far, but kissing Izzy had finally made the daft bugger realize his feelings for her. Rae reckoned part of it must have been that Izzy's comment on his lack of kissing abilities was her first believable rejection of him; maybe he was scared because it was the first time he actually doubted that she felt the same way about him. Either way, if there was even a bit of truth to the "Friend Zone," Izzy and Chop were near to escaping it.

Her thoughts were distracted at that moment by another tickle on her nose; _Oh shit_, she had to sneeze! Not wanting to wake Finn, and instinctively using her right hand, she let go of his as softly (but quickly) as she could and covered her mouth and nose. _Well, fuck. _ She couldn't exactly put her hand back in Finn's now without waking him up; plus, she'd feel bad making him touch her disgusting germy hand. What the bloody hell was it that kept irritating her nose? Rae looked down again to find it—a loose strand from her frayed duvet cover. Figures. She'd been telling her mum for the past two years she needed new linens (preferably ones without Care Bears on them because she wasn't fucking five years old), but the daft cow would rather spend money on sweets for the cupboard. Just then, she was distracted by Finn's reaction to her hand's movement. He'd stirred a bit (_oh God, I hope I didn't bloody wake him—he looks so perfect when he's sleeping_), licking his lips and swallowing before closing his hand and returning to breathing evenly (_phew_).

At this rate, she wasn't going to make it through the bloody night! Just looking at his face was giving her heart palpitations. His lips. Rae couldn't count the number of times when they were talking that he'd had to repeat himself because she'd been watching them move, imagining them pressed hard on her own, trailing kisses down her neck, nestled cozily between her legs…She felt a growing warmth rise in her cheeks, other parts of her body following suit. _Pull it together, Rae._ Trying to distract herself with his eyebrows proved no easier. In all her life, Rae'd never seen anyone with brows like his. When she first met him, they'd reminded her of fuzzy little caterpillars. Sometimes, this made her giggle; other times, she'd imagine them crawling down his nose and into his mouth, to shut the fucker up (he was such a stubborn bastard sometimes). Of course, now she couldn't see them as anything but part of the whole sexy package that was his face.

Jesus, even his freckles were gorgeous. They dotted his cheeks and nose, cute little reminders that, even though she'd jump his bones faster than a cheetah pounces on its prey, Rae also just wanted to cuddle the bloody hell out of him. She followed them down his arms; the freckles were there, too, highlighting the nooks and crannies of his perfectly toned, muscular arms (which she often imagined lifting her up and pinning her roughly to the wall). Finn had told her about the previous summer he'd spent working on his uncle's dairy farm in Cheshire, bailing hay and tending to the cows. Mostly, he'd seemed pleased to have had a job. Mostly, Rae was pleased that it seemed to have paid off in more than just a monetary way…She expected that's also where some of the rough skin on his fingers had come from; it caught on her skin earlier, when he'd been rubbing her hand with his thumb as he held it. Of course, the calloused patches may have been from his guitar playing; she'd seen one at the end of his bed and had meant to ask about it before she'd gotten sick at Finn's when they were listening to Reggae. Remembering that afternoon, Rae realized that she hadn't actually spent much time with him alone—they were usually with the gang, and she mostly talked to Chloe and Archie. There was so much more she had to learn about Finn yet; his relationship with his nan was only the tip of the iceberg, but she was looking forward to diving in.

Finn jolts awake, swearing he'd heard some kinda foghorn or an alarm clock going off (_who the fuck sets an alarm during the summer?_). Blinking a couple of times and listening more closely, he realized that it was just Chop, snoring his fucking arse away. That's how Chop always was when he'd either gotten totally pissed or was crying before he fell asleep (_or both_, Finn notes, remembering the night Chop had lost his virginity to his mum's recently divorced friend, who'd gotten him drunk and asked if he wanted "a tumble" in the loo). It probably had something to do with Izzy. Finn knew Chop was crazy about the ginger-haired girl, but couldn't be bothered to admit it to himself, until tonight. He was glad the daft wanker was finally owning up to it, though; Finn didn't know how much longer he could stand watching the two dance around one another. Still, he wasn't exactly chuffed to be awake, seeing as it was still dark outside. His mood improved considerably, though, when he turned his head and looked at the girl sleeping beside him.

They'd both moved while they were sleeping and now faced each other—noses (and bodies) mere centimeters from touching. He could feel Rae's soft breath on his nose, her lips slightly parted, like two halves of a succulent peach, and her cheeks a warm rose, as if she'd fallen asleep blushing. Finn only wished that it had something to do with him and their night together. _'Their night together?' Jesus, Finn. Get it together—you've only just held hands with the girl. _It was then that Finn realized his hand was empty. She must have moved while they were sleeping because he couldn't imagine wanting to ever let go of her. She was his rock that night, something constant he could hold onto, and reaching for her hand had not been an entirely selfless act. He needed to be grounded right now, and this girl, this wonderful (albeit stubborn), crazy, beautiful girl, was his anchor.

However, keeping his feet on solid ground was currently proving difficult at such a close proximity to her face. Finn was distracted by the shimmering lights that were reflecting on Rae's hair. He found the colors entrancing; they accentuated the smooth, chestnut locks that he had longed to run his fingers through from the first time he'd gotten a whiff of their vanilla aroma. The hair framed her face beautifully, laying gently on her ivory skin. Despite the tough exterior Rae armed herself with, Finn couldn't help but notice how delicate her skin appeared at this close angle. The flawless complexion made him mindful of his own, seeing how close they were laying; he'd always been self-conscious about the array of freckles on his face (particularly the ones on his cheeks—they seemed so much more pronounced). His nan had once told him that they were "angel's kisses", which hadn't really made him feel any more at ease as a young lad, but he smiled now recalling the memory.

Rae took a deep breath in, swallowing and licking her lips over once, sending off an unusual flutter in his stomach. He knew it wasn't meant to be sensual (she was only sleeping, and it was only natural—he'd seen other people do it), but Finn couldn't help the sensation that was slowly spreading throughout the rest of his body. When she'd returned to even breathing, he followed the alluring skin on her face down to the even more enticing area on her neck. It seemed the perfect little nook to rest his head—_fuck_, now he was looking at her chest. Just staring at it in awe, eyes glued, mouth slightly parted. _Jesus_. He really shouldn't be checking her out while she's sleeping…it just felt wrong, like an invasion of her privacy (though the growing bulge in his trousers begged to differ). _They are pretty fantastic_,_ though_, he thought to himself, the lust spreading like wildfire. Finn had felt them up against his chest when they'd hugged earlier, and part of the reason they'd finally broken apart was because he felt his thoughts (and body parts) headed down an inappropriate road—one he shouldn't even be considering so soon after getting the news about his nan. Finn just felt so conflicted and frustrated. Everything seemed to be happening at once—his nan, his family (his dad was going to be an absolute mess the next day, he just knew it), and the confusion and dilemma with Rae this past week. He'd just started to recognize his physical attraction to her and—fucking hell—the _tension_ that night. When they headed to the closet, he really just wanted to talk to her—the only time they'd actually have some privacy—but it still had taken a considerable amount of strength to not ravish her completely, right then and there.

_At first, she can only hear the murmur of the crowd. The lights on the stage dim just then and the bodies around her collectively hold their breaths, waiting like the lightning in anticipation of the thunder. The chords ring out in release, resonating throughout the sea of people and swathing it in gratification. Everything blurs gradually, and she can only feel the smoothly swaying movement of figures around her. Scents of charcoaled burgers and fried chips reach her nose briefly, melting delectably on her tongue. The salty musk of the crowd around them mingles with it. Its aroma is surpassed only by the distinct clarity of CK One, a smell whose arms envelop her from behind, squeezing her body securely. The sticky air has settled on her skin and she can feel a single bead of sweat rolling gently down her neck. The fingers running through her hair shift, pulling the mass gently aside, draping her right shoulder and exposing her neck. Any focus that remains shudders as a soft breath hits her skin, cooling it and sending a surprising chill down the length of her spine. Resolving it in a swallow of nervousness, she moistens her lips, continuing to mouth out the lyrics: "Need a little time to wake up, need a little time to rest your mind…". The words are echoed tenderly in her ear by a familiar sultry voice that she turns to meet, but whose lips capture hers before she can finish uttering his name._

Her eyes were the first thing about her that had struck him. They were large and inviting and, when she smiled or told a story or even just looked at him, he'd seen something that was uncommon in people his age; that much depth was something he'd only witnessed before in his Nan's. As he looked at them now, lashes resting so gently on her skin, he was reminded of the jealous ball of fury Rae's gaze had ignited in the pit of his stomach as she pined after Archie. Then, unexpectedly, he saw her eyes twitch underneath their lids. Finn swallowed in anticipation, waiting for her to awake, but she only sighed lightly and—were her lips curving, or did he just imagine that? It was almost like she was smiling. But then again, he was dead tired, so bollocks knew what he could be imagining right now, not to mention the influence of the alcohol he'd consumed that night. _Wait…no. _She was having a dream—he was almost sure of it. It was a relief that she was still having pleasant dreams, after everything that had happened tonight. He liked that she looked so innocent, and he continued unconsciously playing with her hair, fingers entwined smoothly in her gorgeous, long locks. Just then, Finn saw a breath catch in her chest, like she'd been surprised or scared by something. For a minute, he was worried that she'd stopped breathing completely, until she released it. Finn couldn't help but wonder what she'd been trying to say as she'd sighed "Fff…"

_Thump. Thump. The bass of the drums reverberates in rhythm with her heart's beating, as if it's inside of her, growing stronger and stronger, until her chest can no longer contain it. She is one with the crowd, feeling its pulse synchronize with every downbeat until they become a single being, like the experience itself is keeping them alive, music, the blood to their veins and lyrics, the air to their lungs. She leans back into his welcoming arms, feeling her chest rise and fall, and breathing in the swirling spectrum of the setting sun. It enters her lungs fervently, filling her up and drowning her in the intensity of an impenetrable champagne haze. _


End file.
